


Song of Castiel

by Say_It_In_Enochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel in the Empty (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Hope, Lost Love, M/M, Sad Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Say_It_In_Enochian/pseuds/Say_It_In_Enochian
Summary: This scene takes place between the end of 15:18 and the beginning of 15:19. Dean is alone in the bunker and can't avoid dealing with the loss of Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 4





	Song of Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this after reading "Cas Helped" by OliviaRosen. 
> 
> It struck me that once reunited in heaven (because FFS that's what they (and we) deserve!) Castiel might lay some biblical level romance on Dean. Song of Solomon has some of the best lines about lovers and I can see Castiel quoting some of these ancient verses to his beloved. One verse 5:6 stood out as despairing so in this scene it's found by Dean. 
> 
> I could never end them here which is why I LOVE "Cas Helped" and could see that as their happy ending. I have never written fanfic and this was just a quick evening stress release to write so I hope you enjoy it for what it's worth!

“I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer.” - Song of Solomon 5:6  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean had been combing the books in the bunker’s archives. Searching for something...anything that would help them end Chuck. Sam and Jack had gone out to search Rowena’s place for any leftover piece of arcane knowledge left behind leaving Dean alone, both consumed by and driven by his need for revenge. In his rage he was nearly useless, barely able to comprehend a paragraph of text before his mind turned again to his need to destroy the being that had manipulated, and taken so much from him, simply for what? For entertainment?

Stacks of journals and compendiums surrounded him. This was usually Sam’s strength, his element, or rather that’s what Dean always told his little brother so he could get out of the library and get on the road where the leg-work and the action was. Dean knew his rough and careless demeanor often caused people to underestimate him, but he was as good as anyone at piecing together clues and traces of wisdom from seemingly unrelated bits of lore until a new picture formed. And it always formed eventually….a plan, a solution, a way out, a way back. The Winchesters always found a way. Sammy knew this about Dean too. So that morning when Sam approached Dean to suggest he search Rowena’s old place and found him still drunk from the night before, Dean agreed to work the books instead, once he sobered up.

A pot of coffee, too much Advil, and some hair-of-the-dog later and Dean was functional….barely...but damn if he hadn’t just read that same useless paragraph for the 5th time over.

“FUCK!” Dean shouted and with a violent sweep of his arms sent the texts surrounding him, ancient and modern, flying everywhere.

Explosion over. For now. Just a little pent up rage. “Focus Dean,” his thoughts urged. “Find a way…..there has to be a way to end this son of a bitch!”

Dean began gathering up the book and scrolls he had scattered across the library floor and placing them back on the table. He reached down, grabbing one that had splayed open and was struck for a moment by the illumination. A medieval text. The kind that had been labored upon by some nameless monk long dead. It was exquisite. Reds and golds, silvers and blues shone from the page as if it had been penned yesterday, and the image that made his breath catch? A single letter, magnified in size. A “P”.

As artist monks were wont to do, this one began his page depicting the first letter of the verse with a “P” that took the form of something else. A “P” that glinted silver and stylized not into an animal or flower as was often the case. The loop became part of an ornate hilt and the vertical was stretched and pointed into a weapon and was perhaps meant to be a sword, but to Dean...it resembled an Angel Blade. Dean’s gaze shifted from the blade to the verse itself.

“Pessulum ostii mei aperui dilecto meo, at ille declinaverat, atque transierat. Anima mea liquefacta est, ut locutus est ; quæsivi, et non inveni illum ; vocavi, et non respondit mihi.”

The verse shone with glints of gold and silver as if it was alive on the page and Dean’s inner voice understood the translation:

“I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer.”

Dean had been beaten and injured countless times in his life, but he wasn’t prepared for the devastation wrought by that single verse. Nothing magical, just an old scripture. A passage from the Song of Solomon. But for Dean, it was like reading his own confession, and felt as if that blade had risen off the page to pierce his heart. Perhaps the book was magic after all because now Dean was struggling to breathe, struggling to stand as he slid down against the nearest wall and crumpled to the floor, clutching the sacred text to his chest with one hand, and burying his face in the other unable to hold back a torrent of emotion and tears that overtook him now.

Since that day, he had kept himself together, buried it. He could if he could focus on killing Chuck, focus his hate like a laser on destroying him, Dean had to or he knew he might shatter, body and soul, into a million pieces...and now here it was. For a second he let his guard down and a simple ancient verse, like a spell, broke him and all he ever felt and all he never allowed himself to admit came crashing in upon him.

Between ragged breaths a single word escaped his lips as tear-filled eyes looked toward heaven. “Castiel…” It was a prayer, one word. One name. The name of the blade in Dean’s heart. The name of the angel who sacrificed everything to save him. Who had declared the love that Dean wished he had been brave enough to declare himself. But now that chance had passed. Another regret.

It didn’t matter if they killed Chuck. His Castiel was lost to him. Inside Dean’s head the verse echoed: “I opened my heart for my beloved, but my beloved had left.”

“Cas...” Dean cried out louder now, knowing it was hopeless but desperate to hope anyway. “please. I can’t do this without you." Four words... a whisper...a confession...a release.."I love you Cas," Dean breathed softly as the tears flowed.

And in Dean's thought's, in Dean's own voice, the cruel verse echoed back."I called him but he did not answer."


End file.
